


Strange but Pleasant Dreams

by Jade_Waters



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Consensual, Crowley's not very toppy even when you put him on top, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Light Bondage, M/M, Orgy, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Apocalypse, Rimming, The Arrangement (Good Omens), This is very just for fun, Top Crowley (Good Omens), Wings, blindfold, negotiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 09:24:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19787989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jade_Waters/pseuds/Jade_Waters
Summary: An order of Satanic nuns manages to catch Aziraphale. It's not hard, really, he is terribly gullible. Crowley has some thoughts on how to make the best of the situation.





	Strange but Pleasant Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in TV-canon time, in about 2003 or so, with the assumption that the Arrangement morphed into a kind of Friends with Benefits situation around 1969. 
> 
> It's just some porn for fun so please enjoy!

“I’ve told you lot a thousand times, I’m just a _representative_ of Hell. I’m here to see whatever it is and then report –”

Crowley stops dead in his tracks. At least two of the Satanic nuns stumble into him but he doesn’t notice. They’ve just come down the hallway and entered a candlelit room. There in the center of the room, kneeling bound and gagged and blindfolded, is Aziraphale. At the sound of Crowley’s voice, the angel turns toward him. He wonders for a moment why he couldn’t sense the angel’s presence, but the answer is written on the stone floor beneath the angel. The large, elaborate circle, somehow with all the right sigils, traps within it all of Aziraphale’s grace and light. It’s like lightning in a bottle. “Oh,” Crowley breathes at last, “How did you…?” he’s asking the angel, but it’s a nun who answers.

“Sister Conceit saw him performing miracles in town last week. We didn’t think we’d actually be able to capture him, but well,” she gestures toward a very dusty old book lying nearby.

“A rare book, is it?” Crowley asks. Aziraphale looks abashed. The nuns cluck excitedly. Crowley stalks into the room, circling the angel. Standing in front of him again, just outside the circle, he reaches down to brush his fingers along Aziraphale’s jaw, tilting up. “Angel.” He snaps his fingers and all the nuns freeze. He gently removes the gag. “I can’t believe you let humans catch you like this.”

“Well,” Aziraphale starts, “I’m afraid I didn’t realize they were _Satanic_ nuns. They seemed a bit odd, but I believe that book of theirs is genuine and… well. I guess it’s not important now.”

“They haven’t hurt you, have they?”

“What? Oh, no, they’ve been perfectly hospitable. Except for this, of course. I do feel rather cooped up.” He nods toward the circle.

“You are the only person I have ever met who would refer to being bound and gagged and trapped as ‘hospitable,’” Crowley answers.

“Well, Sister Vanity brought me biscuits and some very nice tea, and Sister Narcissus was kind enough to read me a bit of _Les Fleurs du Mal_ , so I really can’t complain. Her pronunciation was quite excellent.”

Crowley is more relieved than he’d like to admit that Aziraphale is fine. He squats down, examines the markings for a moment, and then draws a single finger across the boundary, the line burning in his wake. As soon as the circle is broken, all of Aziraphale’s pent up powers burst forth. For a moment, the room is bright as day and smells of wildflowers. Grace moves over Crowley like static before he shakes it off. He sneezes for good measure.

Aziraphale sighs in relief. “Thank you. That’s really been the worst of it.”

“You know,” Crowley hums, considering, “You look quite tempting like this.”

Aziraphale swallows, cocks his head, “Whatever do you mean?”

“You should see yourself, angel, on your knees, helpless.”

“I’m not helpless,” he protests, but Crowley sees the blush spread over his cheeks. He smirks. 

“I just think the nuns deserve a bit of a reward for their diligent service and really unexpected achievement, don’t you?”

“I…” Aziraphale flutters, “That seems rather beyond our Arrangement, don’t you think?”

Crowley bends in close, brushes a kiss across Aziraphale’s cheek, nuzzles just under his ear. Aziraphale’s breath hitches. “Think of it as a natural progression. It’s hardly our first little tryst, after all.”

Aziraphale swallows again. It _does_ sound exciting. It’s been quite a while since Crowley wanted to be on top. He remembers the last time: Berlin, 1989, when everyone was celebrating that awful wall coming down. Aziraphale had felt Crowley’s joy like a trumpet, clear above the city’s symphony. He couldn’t resist pulling him in for a kiss, pulling him down onto his bed, on top of himself. “You really want to… in front of?”

Fingers ghosting down the angel’s front, voice low in his ear, Crowley confesses, “I want to fuck you right here, right in front of all of them. Don’t worry – they won’t remember in the morning.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale groans, lets his head drop forward onto Crowley’s shoulder. “But I will.”

“You will,” Crowley agrees, petting his fingers through Aziraphale’s soft bright hair.

“Like this?” Aziraphale asks, shrugging his shoulders.

“Hmm. No I think on your back – hands bound to a stake. More comfortable for both of us. You’ll have to keep the gag – can’t have you saying my name in front of the nuns. I’ll command you to reveal your wings so you can leave them open as long as everything is alright. Just fold them, and I promise I’ll stop everything. And of course, the circle’s broken now – you can vanish anytime you please.”

“I should go now,” Aziraphale muses, the way one does when it’s rather late but one is so enjoying the company.

“You should have gone already,” Crowley counters.

“Can I see your face a moment?” he asks, softly.

“Alright.” Crowley gently lifts the blindfold, and then his own sunglasses. “Better?”

Aziraphale blinks a bit before focusing. He smiles. “You’re sure?”

Crowley kisses him, “Absolutely sure I want you.”

“Alright. Yes,” he nods.

Crowley smiles back at him. “I’ll have to be a bit dramatic for the nuns, and it would probably help if you play along a bit, you know, pretending you don’t enjoy it. But I promise – you fold your wings and I’ll stop it all.”

Aziraphale nods.

Crowley gently reties the blindfold, then the gag. He kisses his cheek again, then slips his glasses back on, moves back into position and snaps. “Angel,” he says again.

The head nun speaks up behind him, “We thought the powers of Hell would surely destroy this creature.”

Crowley smirks, “Now why would I ever destroy something that I could defile instead?”

The nuns gasp and mutter amongst themselves. Crowley thought there was a decent chance he and Aziraphale might accidentally start an orgy.

“Let’s see,” Crowley says, rubbing his chin, pretending to think. A soft, thick blanket appears under Aziraphale, over the sigil. It runs up against a low wooden post that’s suddenly appeared just inside the ring. “That’s a start.” Aziraphale mumbles against the gag. Crowley circles him, “Listen carefully, angel. You do what I tell you, and you might just make it out of here alive. Understand?” Aziraphale nods. “Why don’t you show these very deserving women your wings, angel? Give us a show.”

Aziraphale blushes, ducks his head. He pauses a moment before beautiful, full white wings open behind him.

“Oh, that’s it,” Crowley encourages, sharp teeth in his smile. Suddenly Aziraphale’s hands are bound before him instead of behind. The angel startles, but Crowley orders, “Lay down.” He moves in, manhandles Aziraphale a bit more than necessary before binding his wrists to the post, leaving him face up on the ground, wings splayed out wide beside him. Aziraphale’s resistance, the fine tremor through his limbs, is enough for the nuns to believe he is unwilling. But Crowley can see him practically pushing his wings into the ground they’re so open.

“Now, ladies, prepare to watch Hell’s true power bring this foolish creature low,” he laughs. Aziraphale huffs – Crowley practically feels the eye roll. But no one can see it, and that’s what matters. With a snap, the angel is naked. He inhales sharply, surprised again, but the wings don’t flinch. Crowley disappears his own shirt, lets his black wings show as he shoves Aziraphale’s legs apart and settles between them.

Aziraphale twists away, tries to kick. Oh, how strange and new to have him fight against Crowley’s touch. He appreciates the theatrics, though, and so do the nuns. The demon catches both legs behind the knees, pushes them up until Aziraphale lets out a gasp. Crowley rolls his still-clothed hips against that vulnerable ass, soaks in the stutter of the angel’s breath. “Don’t make me bind your legs as well, angel,” he growls.

Aziraphale throws his head back in what might look to an outsider like frustration, but to Crowley looks like invitation. He leans forward, kisses that open throat, bites hard at the base of his neck. Aziraphale cries out through the gag, his back arches up.

“Oh, again, m’lord,” a nun breathes, and Crowley agrees, bites hard again. He drops one leg and snakes a hand up to fist in those golden curls, tugging that head back. He kisses and bites up and down Aziraphale’s throat, leaving the angel panting hard and tugging at his ropes. Crowley rolls his hips again, pressing his growing erection against that soft ass.

He feels the angel growing hard beneath him and slithers a hand between them to maintain the fiction of Aziraphale’s unwilling participation. “I’m going to make sure you _love_ this, angel,” he hisses. When he takes Aziraphale’s cock in his hand, the angel gasps, tries to pull away, but he is trapped between the ground and Crowley. The demon squeezes firmly, then strokes him gently, loosely, as he begins to kiss his way down – oh, so slowly down – Aziraphale’s body. When he finally reaches the crease of his hip, licking a long stripe before biting at the hollow there, Aziraphale makes a sound like a sob. His cock is hard in Crowley’s hand, pre-come shining. There are marks quickly turning red and purple from his jaw to his thighs, skin glistening with spit and sweat. His wings are as open as they can possibly be.

“Look at you, you filthy, gorgeous thing,” he murmurs. Aziraphale blushes down to his chest, groaning. He certainly _looks_ tortured. Crowley smirks. He can feel the desire radiating off the angel, and apparently so can the nuns. Several of the nuns are not-so-subtly making out as they watch.

Crowley licks over the angel’s cock once before he lets go entirely, eliciting a string of what he’s sure is profanity behind the gag. He has other goals, however. He hooks his arms under Aziraphale’s thighs and tilts his hips up as he settles down between them. He licks and sucks his way down over Aziraphale’s balls and scrotum, enjoying the sounds each move pulls out of the angel. And then he’s at that lovely ass. He pulls Aziraphale as wide apart as he can and plunges in, enthusiastic. Aziraphale _wails_. The shock of his pleasure blows through the room – Crowley can’t help but moan in response, his breath hot against the angel’s skin. He can’t be bothered to count at the moment, but he’d guess at least three nuns just orgasmed. He licks and kisses Aziraphale, pushes his tongue deep, making him as soaking wet as he can. He adds a slick finger alongside his tongue. He takes his time, lets Aziraphale’s breathing go absolutely ragged, waits until he’s nearly shaking to add a second finger.

He pulls back, sits up so the only points of contact between them are his fingers moving slowly, gently inside, and his thighs under Aziraphale’s. The sight of him _allowing_ Crowley to do this to him – it’s almost too much. Crowley thinks he could come just like this. He takes a deep breath, not as calm as he’d like to pretend. He lifts up one of Aziraphale’s legs and kisses gently up his calf to his knee. He disappears the rest of his clothes. He has to keep the sunglasses, though – he’s sure if any of the nuns could see his eyes they’d know the truth.

For their audience, Crowley says, haughty, “You’re all mine, angel. How does it feel? Knowing a demon is going to fuck you and there is nothing you can do about it?”

He nearly chokes on the aching pleasure that rolls off Aziraphale. He pulls his fingers out, and this time he thinks Aziraphale may be literally crying at the loss. Crowley pushes in close, slides his cock along Aziraphale’s skin. He leans forward and, for a moment, pulls his wings close around them. Just a second of privacy to ask, “Ready?” Aziraphale nods desperately, begging as much as he can. Crowley doesn’t make him wait any longer. Holding the angel’s hips against his thighs, Crowley pushes home. He tries to go slow and steady, but halfway in, Aziraphale locks his legs behind him and pulls him the rest of the way. Crowley would laugh but all his breath leaves him in an undignified grunt.

He ends up with one hand beside Aziraphale’s head, one wrapped around his leg, his nose an inch above the angel’s. He tries to set a steady rhythm, but they’re both too far gone. Instead he fucks into Aziraphale hard and fast, and if he's not fast enough, Aziraphale drags him in. He wants desperately to kiss the angel. He wants it so badly he’s not even sure which one of them eventually disappears the gag, just that suddenly Aziraphale’s mouth is open beneath his and they are crashing together in a sloppy, breathy kiss. His tongue’s as far into Aziraphale’s mouth as he can get it, and the angel’s taking it like a dying man takes a lifeline.

Crowley hits the good spot inside Aziraphale, and the angel breaks the kiss to throw his head back and moan. The nuns, definitely having achieved full-blown orgy around the circle, echo him, a chorus of his desire. Crowley kisses hard and open-mouthed just below his jaw.

“Please, please, please,” Aziraphale begs.

“Anything,” Crowley swears.

“Oh, please touch me, please,” he manages before Crowley captures his mouth again.

“Yes,” Crowley breathes between them as he lets go of Aziraphale’s leg and takes hold of his cock. “Come on, angel,” he says as he strokes him as hard and fast as they’re fucking. “Come for me.”

Aziraphale comes harder than Crowley’s ever seen before. The nuns scream with it as they follow him over. Every light in the building flares and snuffs itself out in the wake. Crowley can’t be bothered to notice or care about these side effects, though, because he’s at the heart of it and it hits him so hard he comes, too, as deep inside Aziraphale as he can reach.

Perhaps he can be forgiven for collapsing on top of the angel after that. In the dark and quiet, he comes back to himself to the feeling of Aziraphale’s hands combing through his hair and the sound of his heart beneath him. Terrifyingly deep affection suffuses the air. “Ok?” is all Crowley can manage.

Aziraphale chuckles under him. “Marvelous, my dear. Although it seems we’ve put all our company to sleep.”

Crowley finally lifts his head up just enough to inspect the nuns sprawled out around the room. “They won’t remember anything when they wake up. Just strange dreams.”

“Strange, pleasant dreams,” Aziraphale amends. Crowley snorts. “Ready to go? Did you drive the Bentley here?”

“Mmm,” Crowley snuggles into Aziraphale, wraps himself around the angel as much as possible. “I think I’d rather go straight to bed than even think about driving home.”

“Your place or mine?”

Crowley huffs a laugh. “Think you’re supposed to ask that before the sex happens.”

“Yes, well. This was a special circumstance.”

“My place,” Crowley eventually decides. “Bigger bed. You move us, I’ll move the car.”

In the next breath it’s done. Aziraphale has tucked them sweetly under the covers of Crowley’s oversized bed. Crowley has parked the Bentley out front and snagged the book for good measure, set gently on his bedside table.

“Oh!” Aziraphale says when he sees it, “You didn’t have to.” But he’s already picking it up and brushing his fingers down the spine.

Crowley smiles. “It’s nothing.” Then, knowing it’s too much, he adds, “Just stay a while?”

Aziraphale kisses him softly. “I will.”

Crowley falls asleep with his arm thrown over Aziraphale’s lap and his head pressed against his hip, the angel reading his new old book above him.

He, too, has strange but pleasant dreams.


End file.
